Page 72 of Under His Control
A soft knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts. Dr. Marsh returns, her expression unexpectedly bright. The tension in my chest loosens just a fraction.
“Please tell me you have good news,” I say softly, bracing for the answer.
Her smile widens. “I have very good news. You’re still completely cancer-free.”
Relief floods through me so powerfully that I sag, my breath leaving me in a rush. “Oh my God. Thank you.”
“But” she continues with a mischievous gleam in her eye, “there is definitely something that explains the symptoms you’ve been having.”
My gut tightens. “What is it?”
Her laughter bubbles up gently. “Taylor, you’re pregnant.”
My entire world seems to freeze. “Wait, what? Pregnant?”
She nods, her smile soft, tender. “Yes.”
My mind races, heart hammering wildly. “But I was told multiple times I could never have children due to the chemotherapy and radiation. They said it wasn’t possible. And what about my ovarian condition?”
Dr. Marsh squeezes my hand gently. “It’s uncommon, Taylor, but not impossible. Leukemia treatments drastically reduce fertility, but some women still manage to conceive. You’re one of those rare exceptions.”
I can barely process her words. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Absolutely sure,” she confirms warmly. “But we need to move quickly. This pregnancy is definitely high-risk, given your medical history. I’ll refer you to an excellent OB/GYN immediately. They’ll monitor you closely and do everything possible to ensure the health of you and your baby.”
She hands me a tissue, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve started to cry—quiet, stunned tears running down my cheeks. I never thought motherhood would be in my future. I’d mourned that loss years ago, certain that door was permanently closed.
“Congratulations, Taylor,” Dr. Marsh says softly, smiling with genuine warmth. “You deserve this joy.”
I nod slowly, dabbing at my eyes. Happiness, disbelief, and terror battle inside me, creating a dizzying whirlpool of emotion.
I press a hand to my stomach, feeling a gentle surge of fierce protectiveness. Whatever happens next, one thing is certain—I’m going to do everything I can to protect this tiny miracle growing inside me.
Somehow, against all odds, I’ve been given a chance at a life I thought was impossible.
CHAPTER 28
ANATOLY
The surveillance room of theHospitiumis soundproof, climate-controlled, and windowless—just the way I like it.
There’s no pretense here, no velvet, no showgirls, no poker-faced tourists swiping chips across felt. Just truth, in real time.
Damas’s face flickers across monitor three. He’s laughing with Charles in the conference corridor, that same easy grin he’s worn since we were kids—the one that always disarms, puts people at ease.
But I know better. I’ve always known.
He hasn’t done anything else suspicious since that day Ivan Smirnov waltzed in with a key to the kingdom. Nevertheless, I watch Damas’s every move like he’s one of the marks, because if he is involved—if he handed Ivan a keycard, or worse, owes that rat bastard money—then we’re not just dealing with a breach of protocol.
We’re dealing with betrayal.
I don’t want to believe it. He’s my brother. But blood isn’t a guarantee of loyalty. Ask anyone who’s ever buried family over greed.
I toggle through the camera feeds. Ivan hasn’t returned to the casino since that stunt he pulled outside my office. My meeting with him for the cash drop was on his turf. There haven’t been any unexplained VIP charges. No security flags. It’s like he’s evaporated.
I don’t like it.
Men like Ivan don’t ghost. They plot. They wait.
